THE NEXT EVENING, I’m in the airport, staring at my phone with a frown, knee bouncing.
“Miller.” Ward glances between my face and my phone.
“Hey, Coach.” I straighten up.
“Everything okay last night?”
My gut tightens but I give him a quick nod. “You bet.”
He means the stuff with McKinnon at the bar, and not that I sent Hazel a video of me jerking off and moaning her name, but twelve hours later, she still hasn’t responded.
Fuck.
Ward keeps staring at me, and it feels like he’s digging through my head. “My door’s always open,” he finally says before moving to his seat.
I turn back to my phone, staring at our chat. Stupid. So fucking stupid. I went way too far. Hazel’s horrified, disgusted expression floods my mind, and I groan, turning out the window to stare at nothing.
We were going to spend Christmas together. Things were going so well, but I fucked it all up because I was feeling possessive and horny.
“There’s my little ray of sunshine.” Owens drops into the seat beside me, holding one of those big fantasy novels he’s always reading. He flinches at my expression. “Someone’s grouchy. You going straight to Hazel’s tonight after we land so she can make you feel better?”
I had planned to, but the message in her silence is loud and clear: fuck off, Miller.
Tomorrow, I’ll apologize and we’ll go back to playing pretend, but for now, I’ll give her space.
“No.” I put my phone on airplane mode and toss it into my bag, chest straining. “I’m not.”
